One Year Later

Alexander’s POV

One Year Later

Charlotte Douglas International Airport is decorated like Christmas threw up all over it. Garland drapes from every available surface, twinkling lights outline gate desks, and somewhere a speaker system is pumping out a cover of “Jingle Bells” that makes me want to find whoever arranged it and have a serious conversation about what constitutes good taste.

I glance at my watch. Three-hour layover. Three hours of airport purgatory, complete with overpriced food, uncomfortable chairs, and the vague scent of desperation that seems to permeate all major transportation hubs during the holidays.

But I’m with Olivia, so it could be worse.

She’s walking beside me, her hand in mine, wearing jeans and a cream sweater that makes her look approachable in a way that still catches me off guard sometimes. Even after being together for over a year, I’m not used to being the one who gets to see her like this. Relaxed. Happy. Mine.

The ring on her finger catches the overhead lights, and I feel a surge of satisfaction so intense it’s almost embarrassing. That’s my ring. My fiancée. My entire world walking next to me in sneakers. And looking around for something.

“I want a drink,” she announces, squeezing my hand. I stop walking, turn to look at her, and raise an eyebrow. “What?” She blinks. “Why’re you looking at me like that?”

“You can’t drink, Olivia.”

“Ugh.” She closes her eyes in irritation. “Right. I forgot.”

I can’t help it. I pull her into my side, wrapping my arm around her shoulders and pressing a kiss to her temple.  “Don’t worry,” I murmur against her hair. “I’m here to remind you.”

She puts her hand on my face and pushes me away, though there’s no real force behind it. “Yeah. You’re the one whose fault this is.”

I’m grinning like an idiot. I know I am. Can’t help it. “You never told me you forgot your pill, but I accept full responsibility.”

“Can you stop looking so damn happy?”

“No.” I catch her hand again, threading our fingers together. “I can’t help how I feel.”

She huffs, but the corner of her mouth twitches. That’s a win in my book.

We’re walking toward the bar—I could use a bourbon, and Olivia clearly needs something to do with her hands—when she suddenly stops, her grip on my hand tightening.

“Rick!” she calls out, lifting her free hand in a wave.

I follow her gaze to the bar ahead, where a bartender is handing a drink to a patron. The guy looks up, and something clicks in my memory. The bartender from last year. The one who served Olivia whiskey. The one who witnessed me propose the fake dating scheme that changed everything.

Rick’s eyes widen with recognition. “You’re that girl,” he says, pointing at Olivia with something like wonder in his voice. His eyes slide to me, and I watch the pieces click into place. The way Olivia’s tucked into my side, her hand in mine. “You two are together now?” he asks, pleased.

Olivia nods, walking over to the bar. I follow because of course I do. Where she goes, I go. That’s the deal.

“We’re getting married next week,” I say, and the words taste good. Solid. Real. 

Rick’s face breaks into a genuine smile. “That’s great! Congratulations. I remember you two from last year—” He glances at me. “Didn’t think the fake boyfriend thing would actually work out.”

Olivia laughs. “Neither did we, honestly.” Olivia slides onto the barstool next to her, my hand finding the small of her back automatically. I remain standing. 

“Can I get you something to drink?” he asks with a sweet smile. “On the house. Consider it an early wedding present.”

Before Olivia can answer, I shake my head, unable to keep the pride out of my voice. “She can’t drink anymore.” Olivia’s elbow connects with my ribs—not hard, but enough to make her point. I absorb the hit without comment.

Rick’s eyebrows shoot up, and for a moment he looks embarrassed. “Oh! Congratulations again, then. That’s wonderful.” He looks at Olivia. “Juice? What kind would you like?”

“Surprise me,” Olivia says, her tone resigned but affectionate.

Rick nods, already reaching for glasses, when movement at the end of the bar catches my attention. A man sitting alone, hunched over a tumbler of what looks like whiskey. Dark hair, expensive suit, the kind of posture that screams ‘I’m trying very hard to disappear right now.’

Then the man lifts his head to take another sip, and I get a clear look at his face.

My brain takes a second to process what I’m seeing.

“Nick? Nick Wilder?”

The man looks up at the sound of his name, and even from here I can see the slight glaze in his eyes. The flush on his cheeks. The way he’s gripping his glass like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered to earth.

Nick’s the CEO of one of the most innovative tech companies in the country. What is he doing getting drunk in an airport bar at two in the afternoon.

“Alexander.” His voice is flat. Emotionless. He looks at me for exactly one second before turning back to his drink. “Funny seeing you here.”

I frown. Olivia’s hand catches my wrist, her eyes questioning, but I squeeze her fingers in reassurance before moving down the bar.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, sliding onto the stool next to him. Nick doesn’t look at me. Just taps his glass against the bar top, the ice making a soft clinking sound.

Rick appears, setting Olivia’s orange juice in front of her before glancing over at us. His eyes land on Nick, and I watch something shift in his expression. Interest. The kind that’s obvious even from here. He looks away quickly, a faint flush coloring his cheeks.

Olivia is staring at Nick with open curiosity. Then her eyes shift to me. “You two know each other?”

“I know his brother Jake,” I explain. “We’re old friends.” Nick just sighs, a sound so heavy it seems to come from his bones. He doesn’t elaborate.

Rick approaches cautiously. “Another one?” he asks Nick, his voice gentler than it was a moment ago. Nick just nods without looking up.

I pull out my phone. “Should I call somebody?”

“No,” Nick says immediately, his hand shooting out to grab my wrist. His grip is firm despite the alcohol. “Don’t.” He then releases my hand as Rick distracts him with another round. Stepping away, I call Jake.

Jake Wilder is one of the most fierce corporate lawyers I know. He’s also a college friend of mine.

He answers on the second ring. “Alexander. What’s up?”

“I’m in Charlotte for a layover,” I murmur. “Your brother is here, drunk at the airport bar.”

There’s a pause. Then: “Goddammit, Caleb.”

“Wrong brother.” I keep my voice level. “I’m talking about Nick.”

The silence on the other end of the line stretches so long I think we’ve been disconnected. Then: “Nick is at the bar? The Charlotte airport one? What is he even doing there?”

“I don’t know. Do you want me to get him on his flight and send him home? He’s quite out of it.”

Jake sighs, long and heavy. “Where are you standing?”

“Why?” I look around. “Are you also here?”

“I was coming early for your wedding. Thought I’d get some sightseeing done. Tell me your location.”

I tell him, and he says, “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” He hangs up.

Nick is still staring into his drink like it holds the answers to life’s greatest mysteries. Rick has moved back slightly, wiping down the bar, but his eyes keep drifting back to Nick. There’s something almost wistful in the way he looks at him.

True to his word, fifteen minutes later, Jake Wilder appears. Hazel eyes sharp with worry, dark brown hair slightly disheveled, wearing a casual suit that somehow makes him look both professional and approachable. He takes one look at Nick and sighs like he’s been carrying the weight of this particular problem for far too long.

“What are you doing here?” Jake asks, after nodding at me, sliding onto the stool on Nick’s other side.

Nick doesn’t look at him. “I had a meeting in Charlotte. Now I’m supposed to head back, but I don’t want to go home.”

“Nick—”

“I really, really don’t want to go home, Jake.” The way he says it makes me wonder what’s going on. I knew Nick was married, but it seems like it’s not going very well.

I catch Jake’s eye. “Everything okay?”

Jake is quiet for a long moment. Then he shakes his head, a subtle movement that says more than words ever could. “It’ll be fine,” he says finally, but there’s no conviction in it.

“Nick. Damien is at home, waiting for you,” Jake says quietly.

Nick’s head lifts. “I know, but—”

“Let’s go home,” Jake says firmly, forcing him up and reaching for his own wallet. “How much does he owe?” 

Rick tallies the total, and Jake puts some bills on the bar before grabbing Nick’s carry-on. “Come on, you drunkard. Let’s take you home.” He glances at me. “I’m heading back to Manhattan.”

“Take all the time you need,” I say. “Family comes first. And if you can’t make it to the wedding—”

“I’ll be there,” Jake says firmly. “Just might be a day late. I need to get him home first. Deal with some family business.”

He turns to Nick. “Come on. Let’s go.”

Nick sways slightly, and Jake steadies him with a hand on his elbow.

Rick is watching from behind the bar, and the look on his face is pure disappointment mixed with concern. His hands are braced on the counter, and there’s something soft in his eyes. Something that says he wishes things were different.

Then Nick’s gone, Jake guiding him toward the exit. The silence they leave behind is heavy.

Rick stands there, staring at the spot where Nick disappeared. He lets out a sigh, and Olivia grins at him. “You’ll get the next one, Rick.”

“I sure hope so,” Rick responds. “What a shame, though.”

Olivia glances around the bar, and I watch her eyes light up as they land on someone. A businessman sitting three seats down, well-dressed and currently focused on his laptop. Attractive in a clean-cut, professional way.

“What about him?” she asks, nodding subtly in that direction.

Rick follows her gaze, and I watch his expression shift. The businessman looks up at that exact moment, catches Rick looking, and smiles. A slow, interested smile.

“Huh,” Rick says, straightening slightly, sparks in his eyes, and Nick is completely forgotten. “Yeah. You’ve got a good eye.”

Olivia winks at me. “I do.”

The businessman gestures for a drink, and Rick moves down the bar with a little more energy in his step.

Olivia returns to me with a satisfied smile.

“Fixed his love life there?” I ask, pulling her back into my arms.

“I tried.” She leans into me. “Let’s just go get something to eat. Rick’s going to be busy.”

As we walk, I inform her, “I’ve already booked us a nice hotel in Asheville.”

Her eyebrows draw together. “Why?”

I give her a long look. The kind that says, ‘I can’t believe you’re even asking this question.’ “With my entire family also crashing at your family’s house, we need alone time.”

She stares at me. Just stares. Then: “You want to drive over two hours back and forth every day just to have sex?”

I don’t even hesitate. “Yes. Do you have a problem with that?”

She shrugs, but I can see the amusement dancing in her eyes. “People will call you a pervert.”

“Not if they don’t know.” I pull her closer, until there’s barely any space between us. “And you happen to be marrying this pervert, so I am solely your problem now.”

She laughs, and the sound of it does things to my chest. “Clearly,” she says, and then she’s kissing me. Right here in the middle of the airport bar, with strangers passing by and Christmas music playing over the speakers, she’s kissing me like I’m the only person in the world who matters.

When we break apart, I squeeze her hands.  “Next Christmas,” I say quietly, “we’ll be a family of three.”

Her smile could power the entire eastern seaboard. Bright and warm and so full of joy it makes my throat tight.

She kisses me again, and I pour every ounce of emotion I’m feeling into it. Love. Gratitude. The bone-deep satisfaction of knowing that I get to keep her. That she chose me. That somehow, against all odds, the universe decided I deserved this. Deserved her.

When we finally pull apart, I look down at the woman in my arms. “What are you thinking about?” Olivia asks, her fingers playing with my tie.

“How lucky I am.”

She rolls her eyes, but she’s still smiling. “I should say that as well. I sometimes think you’re a Christmas wish come true.”

“Your Christmas wish was to marry a pervert?” 

She bursts into laughter.

“My pervert, remember?” She waggles her brows at me with a grin.

“I pull her closer, my hand sliding to the back of her neck. “Good. Because you’re stuck with me now.”

“Fiancé,” she says softly.

“Soon to be husband,” I correct. “One week.”

She softens at that. Goes all melty and warm in my arms. “I love you.”

Three words. Eight letters. Never gets old.

We stand there for another moment, just holding each other in the middle of the airport, surrounded by the chaos of holiday travel and the twinkling Christmas lights and the knowledge that we have two more hours before our flight boards.

“We should probably get something to eat and find our gate,” Olivia says eventually.

“Probably.”

“Make sure we know where we’re going.”

“Good plan.”

Neither of us moves.

She laughs against my chest. “You know, a year ago, if someone had told me I’d be engaged to my boss and pregnant with his child, I would have called them insane.”

“And yet here we are.”

“Here we are,” she echoes, and her hand finds mine, guiding it to her stomach. There’s nothing to feel yet. Won’t be for months. But knowing our child is in there, growing, becoming, makes something primal and possessive surge through me.

Mine. Both of them. Mine to protect, mine to cherish, mine to love for the rest of my life.

“I asked Avery to be my maid of honor.”

“You didn’t ask Amber?” I tease her. 

Olivia shudders. “Thankfully she won’t be here. She got a new boyfriend, and they’re traveling for Christmas. The last thing I need is for her to ruin my wedding.”

“I won’t let anybody ruin our wedding, darling.” I kiss her knuckles. “They’d live to regret it. Now come on,” I say, pressing one more kiss to her temple before reluctantly stepping back. “Let’s find the gate and get you some food.”

She grins, threading her fingers through mine as we start walking, and I can’t help but smile.

A year ago, I was standing in this same airport, watching Olivia drown her sorrows over a man who was never worthy of her. I’d proposed a fake relationship born out of desperation and opportunity, never imagining it would lead here.

To this.

To her hand in mine, my ring on her finger, our child growing inside her.

Christmas music drifts through the speakers, a terrible jazz rendition of “Holly Jolly Christmas.” The garland seems brighter. The twinkling lights warmer.

Everything looks different when you’re happy.

Olivia squeezes my hand, glancing up at me with a smile that still makes my chest tight. “What are you thinking about?”

“How last Christmas, I had nothing,” I say quietly. “And this Christmas, I have everything.” She leans into my side as we walk, fitting perfectly against me like she always has. Like she always will.

She says I’m her Christmas wish come true.

Turns out, she isn’t the only one who had their wish granted.